


Brother Knows Best

by NoelleLilacNotte



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Absent Parents, Abuse, Based off my headcanons, Bullying, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft being a bad brother, Other, Sherlock hates himself, Young Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Young Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleLilacNotte/pseuds/NoelleLilacNotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock decides to go to school one day. Mycroft isn't happy about it. Loosely based off the song Mother Knows Best from Rapunzel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Knows Best

The glittering winter light trickled through the haphazardly strung curtains of Sherlock’s bedroom. He grumbled and pulled the scratchy woolen blankets closer to his face.  
“Feeling sick, brother dearest?”  
“Leave me alone Mycroft.”  
“You’ve got a cold. You should stay home.”  
“Too bad, I want to leave today. You’ve had me cooped up in here for days.”  
“I’m only trying to keep you safe. You know how the goldfish are. They hate us because we think differently than them. They’ll hurt you.”  
The younger Holmes brother grumbled and shrank closer to the worn down pillows.   
“You’re hurting me. I hate it in here.”  
The whisper of the curly haired genius was barely legible through the thick blankets, but the eldest scowled and tore the covers from the other’s pajama-clad body.   
“You want to go into the world?! You want to go see how much the idiots of the world can hurt you?! Go ahead!”  
The smaller of the two started shaking slightly.   
“Th...thank you.”  
He quickly dressed and grabbed his coat, rushing out the door and ignoring the rage-fueled glare his brother gave him as it bore into the back of his head like a laser. 

When Sherlock arrived at the run-down brick building his parents insisted was really a great school, he was immediately subjected to snickers and hushed comments from the few classmates he had who would even bother looking at him. When he pushed his way past the “goldfish” surrounding him and made it to the small, painted classroom he’d been assigned. Someone had taken a tube of lipstick and painted “FREAK” on his desk with it. He mentally shrugged and unsuccessfully tried to wipe the word off with the sleeve of his oversized coat. The day continued on, every single second of laughter from the pimple faced boys whose mothers were cheating on their husbands (with each other), the notes from the bulimic girl, the pregnant girl, and the girl with 3 boyfriends who wore the fancy clothes, the shoves from the boy who took 18 capsules of ritalin a day, and everything else that happened chipped away at his optimistic mood like a chisel on ice. 

By the time he returned home, Mycroft was sitting on the patched-up reclining chair in the living room.   
“Mummy and Daddy are working late again. How’d school go?”  
“Terrible.”  
“I can tell.”  
“Then why did you ask?”  
“To prove a point.”  
“What point?”  
“Brother knows best. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”  
“I know.”  
“There we go. Isn’t life better when we agree?”  
“Yes.”

 

The words tormented him in his sleep that night. He hated his brother but he knew he was right. Ordinary people were scared of them, so they would try to hurt them. That single phrase repeated itself over and over again in his head.  
Brother knows best.


End file.
